


Trust Me

by beckybrit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckybrit/pseuds/beckybrit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek pushes his hips against Stiles’, hissing as they make contact. “I can’t control it. Isaac tried to take the edge off by fighting, but it’s coming again, Stiles.” He presses Stiles’ hands high above his head and rocks into him. “I can feel it like an itch under my skin; the urge to take and claim and possess and I...” Derek lets his head drop back and Stiles can clearly see his fangs elongate; sharp and menacing. “I’m going to hurt you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> Um... so I was bored and this happened. There is no plot, just a shameless excuse for Derek and Stiles to be a little rough because that's what I was in the mood for! lol.
> 
> Thanks as always to the lovely Fr333bird for pre-reading and beta'ing :)

“Where is he?” Stiles rushes through the door and into the loft, panting. He rests his hands on his knees, pulling in lungfuls of air—those stairs are an absolute bitch.

“He’s—” Anything else Scott was going to say is interrupted by a loud, feral roar and Scott winces at the crash that follows. They can both hear Erica cursing loudly and Stiles just raises both eyebrows and points a finger in the direction of Derek’s bedroom. Scott nods.

“O-kay, then.” Stiles sighs and takes one step towards the stairs but Scott stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not like the last time.” Scott takes a deep breath, and Stiles wishes he’d just hurry the fuck up and spit it out because he can still hear Derek growling and banging about upstairs and he needs to get to him.

“But I thought you said—”

“I did.” Scott interrupts, one hand fisting his hair as he struggles to explain. “They cursed him with something, and Deaton said... he said...”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He’s well aware how sex pollen works—this isn’t their first encounter with it after all. He really doesn’t see what the problem is. “For fuck’s sake, Scott.” Stiles shrugs out of Scott’s grip and takes another step towards the stairs. “Listen to him.” Right on cue, Derek let’s out a long, mournful howl. “He _needs_ me.”

“Just... _fuck_ , Stiles.” Scott waves a hand, gesturing for Stiles to go on up. “I guess you’ll see for yourself.”  

Scott is still giving him an odd look as Stiles takes the stairs two at a time, he pushes Scott to the back of his mind as Derek howls again. This time it sounds full of rage and frustration, and Stiles just manages to dodge to the side as Erica comes flying out of the bedroom and crashes into the opposite wall. The door slams shut behind her.

“Jesus Christ!” Stiles hurries over to her, but she shakes her head furiously.

“No.” Erica grits her teeth and pushes up off the floor. Her arm is at a disturbingly _wrong_ angle, and Stiles’ stomach does an uneasy flip. “You need to get in there.” She nods over at the door to Derek’s room. “Just... be careful.”

Stiles is starting to get a bad feeling. Sex pollen shouldn’t be a big deal as long as Derek doesn’t try and jump any of the other members of his pack. Stiles is always more than willing to ride out the effects with him; it’s not like they don’t have sex at every available opportunity as it is. But both Scott and Erica are acting weird and it’s making Stiles a little anxious.

He reaches out a slightly shaky hand, cursing at the effect his friends have had on him. This is Derek— _his_ Derek—and Stiles trusts him with his life. He grasps the door handle, pushes it open and steps inside.

Stiles’ heart skips a beat and his breath catches at the scene in front of him. Isaac is slumped beside the bed—his clothes torn and covered in blood—and Derek is in a similar state but wedged into the corner of the room.

“What the fuck?” Stiles hesitates, not knowing who to go to first. Scott’s right, this is nothing like the last time and Stiles is unsure how to proceed. His instincts tell him to go to Derek, but Isaac is breathing heavily, five long gashes across the top of his shoulder, and Stiles knows those wounds of his will take longer to heal.  

Isaac lifts his head and grins ruefully. “It’s not what it looks like.” He shuffles to his feet, stumbling slightly and Stiles rushes forward to help him. There’s a low, rumbling sound from the corner and Isaac waves off Stiles’ offer of help. “Better not.”

Stiles reluctantly steps back, not liking the look of Isaac’s shoulder, but trusting that he knows best. He glances back over to Derek, but is met with the top of his head; Derek’s eyes firmly fixed on the carpet in front of him. “Will someone please explain what the hell’s going on?” Stiles keep his voice low and non-threatening but his tone doesn’t invite any argument.

There’s silence in the room, and Stiles is seconds away from tearing his hair out in exasperation, when Derek speaks. “They were trying to wear me out.” It comes out low and throaty and Stiles can’t help the shiver that runs through him. Derek finally raises his head and Stiles is surprised to see the glowing red of his eyes.

He looks back and forth between Derek and Isaac, hoping that he’s misunderstood. “Wear you out?” Derek nods and Stiles feels the white-hot curl of jealousy flare deep in his belly. He shakes his head and starts to back away. The thought of Derek being with anyone else makes his skin clammy and his stomach churn. “Fuck... _Derek_ , I...” He knows that these curses work quickly but fuck it all, Derek could have waited for him to get there.  

“No, Stiles, you don’t...” Isaac shuffles towards him, reaching out to stop Stiles from going any further. “Not like _that_.”  

Stiles stops moving and opens his mouth, but for once the words won’t come. The past few minutes have really done a number on him and he’s not sure what the hell is happening.  

“Isaac.” Derek uses the wall to push himself to his feet and Isaac immediately turns to face him. “It’s okay. You can leave us now.”  

“Are you—” Isaac hesitates next to Stiles but Derek cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Go.” Derek growls out the words and Stiles doesn’t miss the way his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. Isaac gives Stiles one last look and then disappears out of the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Stiles takes a long, deep breath, trying to get his heart to slow, but Derek still hasn’t moved away from the wall and Stiles can’t seem to calm down. “Derek?”  

“It’s a curse.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Stiles huffs and steps closer to him, some of his earlier tension finally draining away as Derek starts to speak. “Scott said they used sex pollen, again, so we should...  you know”—his gaze drops down to Derek’s groin and sure enough Stiles can make out the long, hard outline of Derek’s cock—”get right on that. So to speak.”

Derek’s lips curl up at the very edges, fleetingly, before his serious expression returns. “But it’s not like before.”  

“Yeah, Scott said that too.” Stiles walks slowly closer to Derek until he’s standing right in front of him. Derek inhales, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “So what the fuck is it like?” Stiles whispers, reaching out to cup Derek’s jaw.

Derek’s hand snaps up, lightning quick, and wraps around Stiles’ wrist, his grip just this side of painful. “It’s not just sex that I need, Stiles. I need to...” His fingers squeeze a little tighter and Stiles’ swallows past the lump in his throat. “I need to _own_ you.” Derek wheels around and shoves him up against the wall, leaning in close to bury his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck. “I need to fuck you, Stiles.  Hard.” Sharp teeth, that are definitely not human, close around the soft skin of Stiles’ throat for just a moment before letting go. “Make you mine over and over, until you’re so full with my come that it’s spilling down your thighs.”

Stiles swallows thickly and tries to find his voice. “That’s...” he coughs and has to clear his throat three times before he can speak properly. “Awesome?”

Derek pushes his hips against Stiles’, hissing as they make contact. “I can’t control it. Isaac tried to take the edge off by fighting, but it’s coming again, Stiles.” He presses Stiles’ hands high above his head and rocks into him. “I can feel it like an itch under my skin; the urge to take and claim and possess and I...” Derek lets his head drop back and Stiles can clearly see his fangs elongate; sharp and menacing. “I’m going to hurt you.”

Stiles shudders, his whole body alive with the anticipation sparked by Derek’s words. Any normal person would run away screaming at this point, but Stiles accepted his lack of normality a long, long time ago. He pulls in a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs and calm his rapidly beating heart. He wants Derek to hear the truth in his words. “I can take it.”

Derek licks over his teeth, dragging his tongue over the sharp edges as he looks down to meet Stiles’ eyes. He stares at him, searching Stiles’ face for any sign of hesitation and Stiles lets him look; confident that he won’t find even the merest hint of it.

“I can take it,” Stiles repeats, and immediately feels the prick of claws against the skin of his wrists. Derek’s eyes are red, his face tight with the strain of preventing a full shift and Stiles hates to see him like this. The one thing that Derek can always rely on is his control, but here, in this moment, he’s seconds away from losing it and Stiles knows that that, deep down, qill be what’s scaring Derek the most. The sooner they work this fucking curse out of his system the better and Stiles is eager to hurry things along. “Tell me what you need.” His voice comes out all gravelly and Stiles would roll his eyes at himself if Derek hadn’t suddenly surged forward to bury his teeth in Stiles’ shoulder.

“Fuck, Derek!” Stiles panics, struggling against Derek’s hold but it just makes Derek growl in warning. “Please don’t turn me... I don’t—”

Derek rolls his hips, making Stiles groan despite the spikes of terror flying through his body. “Not my intention.” Derek grunts the words as he withdraws his teeth, licking at the wound. “Trust me.”

Stiles deflates at the whispered words; he absolutely does trust Derek. “Yeah, okay.” Stiles relaxes into Derek’s grip, allowing Derek’s hands and body to support his weight.

There’s a noise from outside and Stiles realizes with a jolt that the rest of the pack are still here, listening to them, and heat floods his cheeks. It’s stupid to get embarrassed after everything they’ve been through, he knows this, but if he and Derek are going to venture into uncharted sexual territory he’d rather not have an audience.

“You can leave us.” Stiles doesn’t bother raising his voice. There’s a pained whimper from Scott and Stiles feels a rush of affection for his best friend. “I’ll be fine, Scott.” He wants to add that Derek would never hurt him, but this time that’s probably not the truth and Stiles is surprisingly okay with that. He goes with the next best thing. “I trust Derek.”

He waits for the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Are they gone?” He asks and Derek mumbles a ‘yes’ into the side of Stiles’ neck. He’s worrying at the bite mark, licking at it and mouthing over the teeth marks until it starts to get sore. Stiles ignores the pain and focuses on the way Derek’s grinding into him. Stiles is so fucking hard, and Derek’s cock is rubbing along his length which is both awesome and torturous at the same time.

Stiles closes his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm of Derek’s thrusts, but then Derek whines in frustration and his body stills. “What’s wrong?” Stiles nudges Derek’s head up with his shoulder, until he can see his face. “Tell me.”

“It’s not enough.” The words are distorted, Derek’s fangs affecting his speech but that doesn’t stop Stiles from understanding. In fact he thinks he knows exactly where Derek’s going with this. “I need to hunt you, track you down...” He leans back in and rubs his nose along Stiles throat, breathing in deeply, until his mouth is next to Stiles’ ear. “I need you to _run_.” He steps back and let’s Stiles’ arms fall down to his sides. “Now.” Derek snarls when Stiles remains glued to the wall.

It takes Stiles a second for Derek’s words to sink in, but then he’s moving—legs a little unsteady at first—as he stumbles toward the door. As soon as he’s out in the hall, adrenalin floods Stiles’ system and he bolts down the stairs. Thankfully his erection has flagged a little, or running would be a serious problem right now. He snatches up his keys from the kitchen table, heart pounding with nervous excitement, and is out of Derek’s loft as quick as is humanly possible.  

There’s a loud roar from inside and Stiles hurtles down the steps, having no idea how long a head start Derek is going to give him. He’s breathing heavily by the time he reaches the ground level, but doesn’t even break stride as he charges out to the parking lot and the relative safety of his jeep. At the back of his mind, Stiles is wondering why he doesn’t just let Derek catch him, it’s only going to end one way and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t want it. But for some reason Derek needs this, and Stiles is going to make it as good as possible for him. Which means he needs to get in his jeep and start driving before Derek exits the building.

“Fuck.” Stiles drops his keys twice, nervous excitement making him clumsy, and he laughs a little in relief as he finally gets the door open. He starts the engine and just manages to reverse out of his spot as Derek comes barreling out of the entrance. Stiles slams his foot to the floor, tyres screeching as he peels out of the lot, leaving Derek staring after him. A quick glance in his rear view mirror shows Derek shifting into his beta form and Stiles prays that it’s dark enough that no one will see.  

There’s only one place Stiles can think of that has the privacy they need for this, and he takes the next left, then right, until he’s on the road to Derek’s old house in the forest. Derek started renovating earlier this year; it’s only partly finished but there’s enough already done for what they’ll need. Stiles hopes he makes it that far.

He speeds along, crossing his fingers that neither his dad nor one of his deputies are out tonight. Stiles has no idea how Derek will react if he gets stopped for speeding; he’s not exactly confident that Derek wouldn’t just jump him anyway. Stiles pushes that thought far, far away and concentrates on driving.

“Come on, come on.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. He can almost feel Derek closing in, the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck stand on end as another long, low howl fills the air. It sounds  close and Stiles fidgets in his seat, taking off again as soon as the green light comes on. He’s almost there, the turning for the Hale property is just up ahead on the left, and a frisson of excitement flows through him as he gets nearer. It’s well past dusk, but the sky isn’t totally pitch black yet, which Stiles is eternally grateful for as he careens to a halt in front of the house.  

He’s out of his jeep, door hanging open as he races for the porch steps. There’s rustling in the trees behind him, but he refuses to look back over his shoulder. The thrill of the chase has Stiles’ heart pounding with excitement, God only knows what it’s doing for Derek.  

Stiles reaches the steps and manages to get up them without stumbling, which is a minor miracle considering the amount of nervous energy flooding his veins. The front door opens when he turns the handle and Stiles has just put one foot over the threshold when he’s barreled into from behind. Both he and Derek tumble onto the floor and slide across the wooden boards.

“Fuck!” Stiles coughs a little as the wind is knocked out of him, but Derek hardly gives him the chance to get his breath back before he’s tearing at Stiles’ clothes. His t-shirt is the first casualty—ripped straight down the middle—and Derek doesn’t even bother to take it all the way off, just lets it hang open. He lunges forward to mouth at Stiles’ chest, nipping and licking at the pale skin, and drawing blood to the surface as he sucks at the marks. Stiles moans, his hips pushing up to meet Derek as he makes his way down Stiles’s body.

When Derek goes for Stiles’ jeans, fingers hooking in the waistband and clearly intent on ripping those off too, Stiles grabs hold of his hands to stop him. “Hey, these are my favorite pair, dude.”  

Derek growls, eyes flashing red in the near-dark. “Do it, then.” He sits back a little, giving Stiles room to undo his own jeans and shimmy them down his hips. He tugs his boxers down too, to save time, and Derek eyes him hungrily as he lies there half-naked and feeling very exposed.  

Derek doesn’t move back any further, so Stiles is stuck with his jeans around his thighs and the hard, wooden floor digging into his shoulder blades. It’s the least comfy place he’s ever contemplated having sex and Stiles wonders if he can persuade Derek to take this upstairs. He’s about to ask when Derek stops staring and starts doing. He’s still wolfed out, fangs and claws fully extended and Stiles tenses a little when Derek grabs a hold of his waist and ducks down to lick at Stiles’ cock.  

Despite the threat of imminent danger to his most delicate of body parts, Stiles can’t help but arch into Derek’s touch as his tongue laps along the underside of Stiles’ length—soft, yet insistent. A wet warmth encompassing all of him as Derek deep throats him with practiced ease, his fangs thankfully fully sheathed by now.

“Jesus Christ, Derek.” Stiles bites his lip in an effort not to come, but Derek is bobbing up and down in earnest, flicking his tongue all over the place and driving Stiles crazy. Every now and then Stiles feels the barest hint of fang on his sensitive skin, and the sharp jolt of pain keeps him hanging on by a thread.

He’s almost there, his orgasm building deep in his belly and Stiles clenches his fists in anticipation. But then Derek pulls off and sits back on his heels.

Stiles whines in frustration. “Come _on_ , Derek.” He knows he sounds desperate and needy, but that’s because he totally is. He was so close to coming and it almost hurts to have it snatched away at the last minute. He sits up on his elbows and glares at Derek. “I was almost there, man.”

Derek just grunts and pulls at Stiles’ jeans. “Need to fuck you.” And yeah, okay, Stiles is totally on board with that, until he realises that Derek means here—on the hard, wooden floor with no lube. And just no. That’s not the kind of _I’m going to hurt you_ that Stiles had in mind.

“Upstairs.” He bats Derek’s hands away and starts to scramble to his knees. Derek’s bedroom is partially finished and even though they’ve only stayed here once before, Stiles is positive he left a bottle of lube under the bed. Derek looks like he’s about to tear Stiles’ jeans off any minute and just take him, so Stiles grips his jaw and forces Derek to meet his eyes. “Take me upstairs and fuck me in your bed. Now.”

The words are barely out of Stiles’ mouth before Derek hauls him up, throws him over his shoulder and runs up the stairs. Stiles grabs hold of Derek’s ass, clinging on as he’s jostled upside down all the way into Derek’s bedroom. His hard-on has wilted somewhat, but Stiles has no doubt that it’ll reappear very soon as Derek throws him down onto the bed and divests him of his remaining clothes and shoes.

Stiles is naked and spread out across the bed, watching Derek peel off his jeans. He’s almost fully human again, but when Stiles wraps a hand around his own cock, coaxing it back to full hardness, Derek lets out a low, menacing growl and the teeth and the claws are back in full force. He crawls up the bed towards Stiles, eyeing him like he wants to eat him up, and Stiles shivers at the feral look in his eyes.  

Derek’s control is obviously shot to shit, and Stiles finds himself walking a fine line between fear and excitement. He trusts Derek, trusts him to not let things go too far, but he really doesn’t want those claws anywhere near his ass. Before Derek can pin him to the bed, Stiles rolls to the side and reaches a hand under the bed, scrabbling around for the bottle that he knows is under there.  

Derek has his face pressed into the dip of Stiles’ belly, running his nose back and forth through Stiles’ happy trail. It’s very distracting and it takes Stiles two attempts to wrap his fingers around the damned bottle. Derek’s claws are digging into Stiles’ hips now, forcing him to lie back down and he almost drops the lube as some of them pierce the skin. Derek makes a soft whine of apology and immediately turns to lap at the spots of blood appearing.  

It’s strangely intimate and Stiles isn’t at all surprised to discover that he finds the whole thing rather hot. Arousal floods his body, his dick twitches and is now back to life and raring to go. Derek scents the air, and the growl that rumbles through his chest has Stiles slicking his fingers and opening himself up as fast as he can. It’s not ideal, he’s only got two fingers in before Derek is pulling his legs apart, but it’s so much better than going in dry so Stiles will take it as a win.  

“Stiles.” Derek grinds the word out, a pained expression on his face as he tugs Stiles’ hand out of the way. “Need to...”

“It’s okay.” Stiles runs his hands all over Derek’s body, fingers trailing over heated skin and hard muscle, trying his best to keep Derek grounded. “I want it.”

Derek doesn’t take the time to ease in slowly. He pushes into Stiles with one long, hard thrust and Stiles cries out at the shock of being filled so quickly. The pace is brutal from the start; Derek curls his hands under Stiles’ shoulders, holding him tightly while he fucks into him, again and again. He laps at Stiles’ neck, nuzzling and biting until the skin is red and sore—adding to the marks already there—but Stiles barely notices.  

His cock is hard and leaking, rubbing up against the muscles of Derek’s stomach and Stiles feels the tension start to build all over again. He wants to get a hand on his dick, but Derek is pressed so tightly against him that it’s just not possible. He grips Derek’s back, wraps his legs up and around his waist, holding on and pushing back into each drive of Derek’s hips.  

Derek is everywhere; wrapped all around him, and he feels safe even though Derek is the most out of control that Stiles has ever seen him. He clings on, rolling his body to match Derek’s rhythm and Stiles is right there again, just needing that little push to send him over.  

Derek’s body tenses. His back arches as he throws his head back and roars out his release. His hands clamp down around Stiles shoulders, claws piercing the skin and the sharp sudden pain sends Stiles tumbling after him.  

“Derek... _fuck_.” Stiles moans his name. He can feel Derek pulsing inside of him—filling him up with his come just like he promised—and Stiles wants to watch Derek’s face but his own orgasm has him clenching his eyes tight, and he’s not entirely sure he doesn’t pass out for a few seconds.  

“Stiles?” Derek says, moving back a little, and Stiles winces as he slips out of him. “Fuck,” Derek adds a second later, and Stiles ignores the sticky wetness leaking out onto his thighs because Derek’s voice sounds normal again and more than a little panicked. “I’m sorry... I didn’t—”

“Hey.” Stiles cracks an eye open and sure enough Derek is no longer wolfed out. He’s lying on his side looking at Stiles. The curse appears to have run its course, but now Derek is surveying the damage to Stiles’ body with a mixture of horror and guilt. “No,” Stiles pushes up onto his elbows. “Don’t do that.” He tries to ignore the spike of pain from the puncture wounds in his shoulders, but there’s no way to hide the way his breath catches, and Derek looks broken.  

Stiles can see the way Derek is already starting to close off and that’s just not fucking happening. “Stop!” He sits all the way up now and takes hold of Derek’s face in his hands, forcing his gaze up to meet Stiles’ eyes. “I said I could take it, Derek.” He inches closer to rest his forehead against Derek’s. “Listen to me. I’m not lying when I say that I’m okay.” He rubs his thumbs along the edge of Derek’s jaw, willing him to believe him and trust that Stiles is telling the truth.

“But I hurt you...” he trails off again, closing his eyes and Stiles wants to shake him.  

“Yes, you did,” Stiles concedes, because there’s no hiding the scratches and bite marks. “But I wanted it, Derek. You were _cursed_ , for fuck’s sake!” Derek flinches a little at Stiles’ raised voice and Stiles presses their lips together in silent apology. “So you were a little rough—”

“A little rough? Stiles I was more than—” Derek tries to cut in, but Stiles isn’t having any of it.

“I trusted you to keep me safe, not to take it too far, and you managed to.” He kisses Derek again, softer and longer, trying to draw him into it.  

It takes more time than Stiles would like, but finally Derek starts to kiss him back. His arms wrap around Stiles’ back, careful of the wounds on his body, and Stiles feels the pain ebb away to a dull throb. “You didn’t have to do that,” Stiles says when he eventually pulls back to look at Derek.  

Derek shrugs, but Stiles can tell he’s happier for having taken some of Stiles’ hurt away.  

“And for what it’s worth.” Stiles looks up at Derek from under his lashes. “I kinda liked it.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Not that I’d want to do that all the time, because... well yeah... it was a little intense.” Derek’s eyebrows have reached all the way to his hairline by this point, but Stiles perseveres. “But I wouldn’t be averse to doing something like that again, sometime. Just without the curse.”

Derek continues to stare at him, and Stiles doesn’t look away. He needs Derek to trust him on this, needs him to believe that everything’s okay, that they’re okay. He holds his breath for what seems like forever until Derek’s posture eases slightly and the smallest of smiles tugs at his mouth. “Thank you,” he whispers, dropping his head into the crook of Stiles neck and inhaling deeply. “I have no idea why you put up with all this crazy shit.” Stiles’ heart stutters and his chest fills with warmth when Derek smiles against his skin. “But I’m so fucking glad that you do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy my writing, I also write m/m original fiction which you can find [here](http://www.amazon.com/Annabelle-Jacobs/e/B00ARUXZL4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1391098611&sr=8-2)


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